


Out from the Storm

by SnubbingApollo



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Sharing Clothes, blatant self indulgence, it counts fight me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:19:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5953353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnubbingApollo/pseuds/SnubbingApollo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders escapes from the Circle Tower and finds himself rescued from his pursuers by someone unexpected.</p>
<p>Alternatively: What if Sebastian were just a <i>bit</i> more Scottish? This is heinously self-indulgent guys. Basically an excuse for an AU where Sebastian is the leader of a clan of burly highlanders and Anders gets spirited away by said burly highlanders. I make no excuses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Anders is cold. That’s a fact of life in Ferelden really, but it’s different apparently when you’re outside. The cold in the Tower had been pervasive, unfaltering but it hadn’t sunk into his bones like this cold does. The wind seems to go right through him. It certainly goes right through his flimsy circle robes. That was probably part of the design. Anyone who escapes dies of exposure.

Speaking of escaping, Anders has no idea where he is. This is the farthest he’s ever gotten from the Tower and the woods look the same in every direction, but he’s not stupid enough to use a road. He’d be caught in a second.

He needs to find somewhere to stay the night and a change of clothes. He’d left his staff hidden in a bush not far from the Tower, but his robes still mark him out.

“Hey, you!” a voice calls from behind him. Case in point. Anders turns a wide smile on his face.

“Is there a problem, Ser?” he asks, cheerfully.

“Cut the crap mage,” the man says hand already on his sword hilt. “Don’t cause any trouble, just come with me.” Anders takes a step back looking around himself quickly to see if there’s anything he can use to defend himself. Fallen branches, rocks, anything. There isn’t. To their left there’s a sound of horses coming closer.

“That’ll be the others,” the Templar says. “Come on, now. Just behave and you won’t get hurt.”

That’s a lie. Anders knows what will happen to him when he gets back to the tower and he’d rather die. The hoof beats are getting louder, coming closer and there’s a sudden shout from their direction. Anders makes a swift decision. He charges the Templar, letting out a desperate yell. The man pulls his sword, bringing it up to bear, but before he can swing, an arrow shoots out from the woods, and strikes him in the side, right between the plates of his armor. He lets out a cry and turns, just in time to see the men on horseback arrive. They’re not Templars.

Anders has heard of the old Starkhaven clans, the ones that were pushed out when the Chantry moved into their territory, but he’s never _seen_ them. They’re covered in blue paint, just like the stories say and a few of them are _shirtless_ which makes Anders colder just by looking at them. The one with the bow is actually firing from _horseback._ He’s steering the animal with his _knees._ He yells something in a language Anders doesn’t understand and turns, meeting the mage’s eyes for a moment. His eyes are… gorgeous, bright blue and _fierce_ and for a moment, Anders is frozen under his gaze. Then he turns back to the Templar, who’s running away now the coward, and the spell is broken.

Anders should be running away too. The Clans take mages all the time. No one knows what happens to the ones they steal. They’re just... never seen again. There’s plenty of stories though. That they’re killed or worse. He turns ready to flee into the woods but before he can he runs smack into the chest of one of the men. He cries out stumbling back, falling into the snow.

Why had it seemed like a good idea to escape during winter again? Fuck the frozen lake, he could have tried to swim it again.

“Tá sé ceart go leor,” the man tells him. “Beidh aon duine Gortaítear tú.” He’s reaching out a hand but Anders is still scrambling backwards. He doesn’t know where he plans to go though. The fight is over, the Templar presumably dead, which means all attention is on him now. The one who shot the arrow has come back, still on horseback. The others have formed up around him and he seems to be the leader.

He says something in that same language and the man who’d spoken before steps back. He gets down off his horse, moving slowly towards Anders, crouching down and looking at him with a gentle smile. He’s not too close, hanging back to give Anders space. He speaks again, repeating the words the other man had said and Anders shakes his head.

“I don’t understand you,” he says quietly. The man frowns and motions for one of the other warriors to come closer.

“The Prince say, no one will harm you,” the new man says, slowly. It was clear he didn’t speak Trade fluently, but at least Anders could understand him. “You are safe here.”

“Why… did you save me?” Anders asks, looking back and forth between the Prince and the translator as he relayed the words.

“The Prince say, you were in danger. And we do not like… um… bucket heads?”

Anders can’t help but laugh, almost startled by the sound.

“Bucket heads?” he asks, still chuckling. “Templars. And I don’t like them very much either.” The Prince smiles at him speaking again.

“Templars,” the translator says, repeating the correction. “He say, you can come with us. We protect you.” Anders’ brow furrows at the words.

“I’ve heard that before,” he said. The man shakes his head.

“Not like Templars protect. You are a mage. Mages are important to us. Valuable. Rare. We keep you safe from Templars.”

“Why?” Anders asks. “Everyone else thinks we’re cursed.” The Prince scoffs at the words, speaking softly with that same gentle smile.

“He say, not cursed. _Blessed.”_ Anders looks back and forth between them. It isn’t as though he has anywhere else to go. 

“Alright,” he says. The Prince grins when the word is relayed to him and he stands, speaking to the group as a whole, a cheer ringing out in response. Was that for _Anders?_

“He ask that you ride with him,” the translator says. Anders looks at the Prince, biting his lip in hesitation, before nodding. The man smiles, taking his hand and leading him to the horse. He puts a hand on his chest speaking slowly.

“Sebastian,” he says. Anders smiles, mimicking the action.

“Anders,” he responds. Sebastian smiles at him, repeating his name softly. He takes the mage by the waist, lifting him up so that he can swing onto the horse. Anders squeaks but it ultimately grateful. It’s by far the largest horse he’s ever seen. Not that he’s seen many. Sebastian mounts up behind him, taking the reins and urging the horse forward. Very close behind him. It’s almost like being held. Several of the warriors let out cries and charge ahead on the horses, one of them swinging an ax over his head.

What exactly had Anders gotten into?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of Sebastian Vael Appreciation Week I bumped up the time table for this chapter! So here it is a little early. Enjoy!

They ride through the maze of trees for some time before they finally reach what looks the Clan’s camp. Sebastian helps him down from the horse, careful not to knock loose the large plaid mantle he’d laid over Anders’ shoulders when the mage finally started shivering. He gives Anders a reassuring smile, and cups his cheek briefly before turning away to speak with some of his people. Anders hovers by the horse not at all sure what he’s meant to be doing. He nearly jumps out of skin when there’s a tap on his shoulder.

“Oh! Sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you,” the young woman standing behind him says. “I’m supposed to show you around?” Anders blinks.

“You speak common,” he says stupidly. She’s dressed like one of them, plaid and fur but she has a Marcher accent. She smiles at him.

“Yeah. I’m from a Circle, like you. The Clan rescued me and a few others while we were being transferred to the one they’ve started in Starkhaven. When we got here practically no one spoke anything but the old Starkhaven language. We’ve been teaching a few of them but it’s slow going.”

“I thought they kidnapped mages all the time,” Anders says confused. “Didn’t they ever have to speak to them before?”

“They didn’t kidnap us,” the woman answers, with a frown. “They saved our lives. And they usually can only get close to kids. The ones being brought to a circle for the first time. It’s easier for a child to learn a new language then try to teach their own to someone else.”

“Sorry, I just,” Anders frowns looking around. “It’s just a little hard to trust all this.” The woman smiles at him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“I understand. My name’s Melinda.”

“Anders,” he says.

”It’s nice to meet you Anders. Come on, let’s get you something to eat and settle you in okay?” He nods. Food would be nice. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast.

As they make their way across camp Anders is very aware of the amount of eyes on him. In the Circle mages were all but invisible. As long as you were toeing the line no one paid you any attention at all. Here everyone seems to be fascinated by his presence.

Melinda leads him into a tent and speaks to the three men inside. Two of them are sitting close together at a table and the other appears to have been waiting for her. He stands and puts his arms around her whispering something to her. One of the men hollers something that sounds teasing and throws a hunk of bread at them, to which Melinda mutters something back. Anders has no idea what any of them are saying but the scene is warm, friendly. He can’t help but smile.

Melinda pulls away from the man and grins at him.

“I’m going to grab you some lunch, Anders. If these three haven’t eaten it all, that is. Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

Anders swallows nervously as she walks off, looking at the other three.

“Sit,” the one who’d spoken to Melinda said motioning to the bench, with a smile. Anders returned the smile hesitantly as he took his seat, wishing Melinda would hurry back.

“My name is Arran. It’s good to meet you.” The smaller man says something, giving Anders a concerned look and Anders frowns, not understanding.

“Iontach says you look half starved,” the man across from him says.

“Running through the woods all day will do that,” Anders jokes. “I’m fine, though. It’s nice of you to worry… Iontach.” He stumbles a bit over the pronunciation and figures he must have gotten it horribly wrong because the three of them laugh.

“I’m sorry. Iontach is not name. It means…” he bites his lip looking to Arran.

“Magnificent,” Arran says. “It means magnificent.”

“Yes. My name is Cinaed. Only Fergus calls me Iontach.”

Anders blinks looking at them, and noticing for the first time that they’re holding hands.

“Are you two…?” he asks slowly. He doesn’t mean to pry but… Cinaed nods, smiling. Before Anders can say anything else a plate is set down in front of him and Melinda sits down next to Arran.

“Thank you,” he says, digging in. They talk as they eat and Anders learns that Cinaed was found with a Templar in route to Kinloch when he was seven, and that he’s been with the Clan ever since, and that he and Fergus are something called céili.

“The Clan fights in warrior mage pairs,” Melinda explained. “It’s very important to them, sacred even. Not everyone finds their match, so to be like Cinaed and Fergus is to be very lucky.” The two smile at each other, practically doe eyed. Anders frowns brow furrowing.

“Are there not enough mages to go around? Is that why the Clan takes them from the circles?” he asks. Melinda’s eyes widen and she shakes her head.

“No, no nothing like that! It’s not like… any two people can’t just be stuck together they have to be right for each other,” she says.

“Sacred bond,” Fergus adds. “Only the siofra can see it.”

“Siofra?” Anders asks.

“Mages possessed by spirits. It doesn’t work like they told us, Anders. Not all spirits are demons. I’ve seen it. It’s amazing,” Melinda tells him. Anders watches her with wide eyes. “They’re like the head mages of the clans. Sort of like a First Enchanter but they make decisions for everyone not just the mages.”

That… sounds incredible. 

“We’re… really equals here?” he asks her quietly. Cinaed frowns and Arran makes an angry grunt. He ignores them.

“We really are,” Melinda says, taking his hand and squeezing it comfortingly. The tent flap opens and Anders turns surprised to see Sebastian walk in. He exchanges a few words with the three clansmen and Cinaed and Fergus stand.

“We must go now,” Cinaed says. “Our turn for patrol. See you tonight?” Anders nods and they leave still holding hands. It’s so strange to see a mage showing affection so openly. Anders feels a moment of fear for them as they walk out into the open before he remembers that no will hurt either of them for that here. 

Sebastian and Arran continue talking for a moment and Melinda laughs at something they say.

“What?” Anders asks.

“The Prince is asking after you and Arran is teasing him. He said, 'your spoil of war is fine, sit down and eat.'”

“Sp- spoil of-,” Anders stutters.

“He put you his _horse._ He’s never done that before,” Melinda says teasingly. “And you rode into camp wearing his plaid. Everyone’s talking about it.”

Anders blushes nearly as deeply as Sebastian does. The Prince glares at Arran half-heartedly before turning to Anders and speaking softly. His voice is… lovely. He’s also a prince and _that_ is a very bad idea.

“He says, a tent has been made up for you and you’re free to wander as you like. He just asks that you stay inside the camp where it’s safe or take someone else with you.”

“I, uh,” Anders says intelligently. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Anders,” Sebastian says. The words sound gorgeous in his soft accented voice.

“So you _do_ speak common.”

“No,” Sebastian says, then holds up two fingers very close together.

“Sebastian’s away a lot, so it’s taking longer to teach him,” Melinda explains. Anders makes a noise of understanding, jumping a little when Sebastian’s hand rests on the side of his face again.

“Be safe, Anders,” he says and then turns to go. Melinda and Arran both laugh.

“I wonder how long until _he_ starts calling _you_ Iontach,” Arran teases and Anders looks away blushing. He can’t help but smile though, still feeling warm from the touch.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this happened a lot faster than I was expecting. My brain seems to have forgotten that I have other fics. And you know... responsibilities XD
> 
> Also many many thanks to Mike (Krem-de-le-creme) for the use of their OC Sheridan :D
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

Anders sighs as he leaves his tent, shivering a bit in the cool morning air. It’s been a few days now and he’s finally starting to settle in with the Clan. It’s still odd having so many eyes on him, but he’s getting used to the way things operate here. And enjoying not being under guard. 

He makes his way across the camp, stopping to grab some bread and fruit for breakfast, before going to the healer’s tent.

Caoimhe is already there of course and she greets Anders cheerfully without looking up from the herbs she’s grinding. She’s a young girl, but skilled with medicines. As soon as she’d found out Anders had experience with magical healing she’d all but planted her flag on him. Not that he’s complaining of course. It feels good to have something to do. To have his magic valued instead of feared.

“Good morning,” Anders answers gathering what he would need for the day. Wallace would be in in an hour or so looking for a cure for his hangover and Sean should be in at some point to have the cut on his arm checked on.

The chimes on the tent flap sound and Anders turns to see a woman standing in the entrance. She’s tall and willowy, her dark skin painted in woad and her blonde hair pulled back into intricate braids. He’s seen her many times around camp, but never spoken to her, and he has to stop himself from recoiling now. She’s the Clan’s siofra. Their possessed mage.

Caoimhe gives her a respectful bow and then turns back to her herbs. The woman stares at Anders intently, looking him over. He’s felt her eyes on him many times since he’d arrived, more than anyone else in the clan. He’d assumed she was watching him for signs that he would harm the Clan, betray them or hurt someone. He hopes her being here now doesn’t mean he’s fallen short of her expectations somehow.

“Walk with me,” she says. It isn’t a request. Anders bites his lip, setting down his supplies and following. Caoimhe notices his nervousness and gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he walks past her. He smiles at her in thanks.

“My name is Sheridan,” the woman tells him as she leads him around outskirts of the camp. “I thought it was time we spoke.”

“It’s good to meet you,” Anders says carefully. “I’ve noticed you watching me… I was beginning to worry I’d offended you somehow.”

“Trust me,” Sheridan says with a small smile. “If you offend me, you’ll know it.” Anders tries not to stare at the jawbone hanging from her belt. It looks human. “I like to wait a few days before approaching new mages. The Circle makes mages skittish, slow to trust and quick to frighten. It’s good to give you time to settle in.”

“I appreciate that,” Anders says honestly. He’s not sure what he would have done if Sheridan had come to him that first day. Probably fled in terror. “I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but you’re a little intimidating.” Sheridan laughs.

“It’s been said.”

“You speak common very well,” Anders comments, almost confused by her fluency. She had much more command of the language than the other members of the Clan but she carries herself the same way as the mages who were born into it. He can't imagine her in a Circle. Sheridan gave him an indulgent look.

“Devotion speaks all the languages of men. It lends me it’s knowledge when I have a need.”

“Devotion,” Anders says slowly. “That’s the… spirit that’s possessing you?”

“Possess is an inaccurate word,” she says with a frown. “Devotion and I are partners. One of us does not own the other. We have joined, and created something new together.”

“So you’re… one person now?”

“Not quite. There are still separations. Distinctions. But we are one,” Sheridan gives him a small smile and for a moment her eyes seem to glow a deep violet. “Enough about me. Tell me about yourself, Anders.”

“You want to know about me?” Anders asks. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Everyone has much to tell. They just don’t always know the value of their own stories,” Sheridan tells him. “I’m sure you’ve been told what my duty is here. You are one of the Clan’s mages now. It’s my duty to look out for you. To do that, I must know you. Your past. Your needs.”

“Well… I, um," Anders began uncertainly. "My family was from the Anderfels, originally. They left when the darkspawn moved in. Really drives down the quality of a neighborhood, I suppose. I went to the circle when I was young. To be honest I’m not actually sure anymore how old I was or… am for that matter. I think around nine or ten? I was a bit of a problem child. Escaped seven times. This last one makes eight.”

“Why did you run so often?” Sheridan asks watching him carefully. Anders is almost offended by the question.

“Why wouldn't I?” he asks. “I never did anything to deserve being locked up like that. The way they treat us, like our existence is an inconvenience, like we’re… _less_ than nothing, it’s not _right!_ Do you know what a harrowing is? They do that to _children!”_ He bites his lip when he realizes he’s yelling. “Sorry.” His angry tone belays the word. Sheridan just smiles.

“You have a well-developed sense of justice,” she murmurs. There’s an odd quality to her smirk, like she knows something he doesn’t. “No need for an apology. You’re right after all.”

Anders shifts a bit under her gaze, not sure what to say.

“I should let you get back to your work,” she tells him, still smirking. “I’m sure Wallace is already in the tent. Best not leave Caoimhe to deal with his whining alone. We'll talk more some other time.” Anders winces. Had they been walking that long?

“Yes,” he says, looking back in the direction of the healer’s tent. “It was good-.” But when he turns back to her, she’s already gone. 

“Well that’s not discomforting at all,” he mutters, shaking his head and walking away back to the tent.

***

“Well, are you going to say anything or just keep smirking at me all day?” Sebastian mutters irritably. Sheridan laughs.

“You already know what I’m going to say,” she tells him. Sebastian puts his head in his hands, rubbing his temples in small circles.

“It is him then?” he asks.

“You knew from the first moment you saw him,” she says. “And he knew as well. He just doesn’t yet know what he knows.”

“Do you speak like that just to annoy me?” Sebastian grumbles good-naturedly. “Or do you actually think in sentences like that?”

Sheridan laughs shaking her head, before looking at him seriously again, reaching out to take his hand.

“Things have been set in motion, which cannot now be undone,” she tells him, holding his gaze. “You must accept what is to come, or all is lost.”

“You make is sound so simple,” Sebastian murmurs.

“Nothing important is simple,” Sheridan says, shifting to wrap her arms around him, comfortingly. “This is a good day, Sebastian. Do not mourn for deaths which have not yet happened. The future will bring it’s sorrows in time. For now, there is joy.”

Sebastian nods, taking a deep breath.

“What is he like?” he asks, softly.

“Brave,” Sheridan tells him, smiling. “Fiery and just.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. This chapter is 100% therapy fic. I had a death in the family last night and I just wanted to write some fluff. I hope you enjoy it!

Anders stands outside the tent debating whether he actually wants to go in. Is he allowed to go in? If Sheridan is like the First Enchanter then is Sebastian like the Knight Commander? Is he even allowed to speak with him? They’d spoken already but that was extenuating circumstances, surely. Coming to his tent like this…

He’s broken out of his thoughts when the tent flap is moved aside and Sebastian almost walks right into him.

“Oh,” Anders says, nervously. “I… um… here.” He holds Sebastian’s plaid out for him, and the man looks down at it, looking terribly confused. “I realized that I hadn’t given it back to you yet so…”

Sebastian looks back up at him for a moment, then smiles moving to the side.

“Come inside?” he asks, and Anders all but shivers at the sound of his voice, deep and soft with that incredible accent.

“Um,” he says intelligently. “If- I mean, if it’s alright?” Sebastian smiles at him and motions him inside again. Anders walks the few steps into the tent, still clutching the plaid. It’s warm inside, a small brazier in the center of the space serving to heat it. There’s a sitting area and behind it a mattress covered in furs which he assumes is Sebastian’s bed. It’s homey and comfortable and Anders can't help but relax a little.

He sits on one of the cushions around the brazier and blinks in surprise when Sebastian takes a seat next to him rather than across from him like he'd expected. The man pauses before very carefully speaking.

“How are you settling in?” he asks.

“Um, well,” Anders answers with a smile. “Everyone’s very kind.” Sebastian smiles at him and Anders feels his face heating more than could be justified by the fire in the brazier. The man is unfairly attractive, with his red hair and his blue eyes and that little _smile._ Anders blinks when he notices Sebastian looking at him expectantly. He’d asked something. Oh Maker.

“Um, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” he says biting his lip.

“Sorry,” Sebastian says with a blush of his own. “I know my Common is not so good.”

“No, that wasn’t it, I was just… um distracted? I wasn’t paying attention, I’m sorry,” the mage answers softly. Rather than getting angry Sebastian just laughs quietly.

“Busy day?” he asks and Anders blinks in surprise. He sounds like he’s actually asking because he’s interested, not just because it’s polite.

“Nothing too bad,” Anders answers. “A few scrapes, and a head cold.”

“I’m glad you came. I’ve been meaning to… to get to know you.”

“Me?” Anders asks. “I’m not that interesting.” Sebastian shakes his head. His expression is oddly soft and Anders isn’t quite sure what to make of it.

“We should… um,” Sebastian motions with hands for a moment. “Eat? Soon. Together.”

“Um… if you’d like,” Anders agrees. Sebastian smiles, resting a hand on Anders’ shoulder for a moment, before standing. Anders follows suit and they walk to the entrance together.

“Now, I have to go,” Sebastian says quietly. “But, soon?”

“Yes,” Anders answers with a small smile. “Oh, here.” He holds out the plaid again and Sebastian shakes his head with that same soft smile.

“You keep,” he says, pushing the plaid back to Anders gently. “It will Keep you warm.” Anders blushes but nods.

“Thank you.”

He stands there for a moment watching as Sebastian walks away. He’s not entirely certain what just happened. If Sebastian weren’t a prince he’d be tempted to call it flirting, but that can’t be right. 

He sighs, unfolding the plaid and wrapping it around his shoulders. It _is_ very warm.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes it's been a long time since I updated! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Sebastian and Sheridan have been huddled in the war tent all day. The entire camp in tense, an air of waiting hanging over even the healer's tent.

"What are they doing in there?" Anders asked, looking out across the camp to the other tent.

"Planning a raid most like," Caiomhe answered, looking up from her work. "Keep grinding that elfroot. We're going to need it." Anders nods and turns back to his work.

Some time later, the tent flap chimes and Anders turns to see Sheridan walk in. He and Caiomhe give her respectful nods and she smiles at them.

"Anders," she says softly. "We have need of you."

"Me?" Anders asks shifting nervously. "Um, alright." He sets down his work and follows her across to the war tent. It's dimly lit inside by one of the small braziers that heat the tents and several candles. There was a map spread out on a table and Sebastian was leaning over it along Arran and his mage Melinda. There is an area circled on the map and if Anders isn't mistaken...

"The Circle Tower?" he asks looking up at them, with wide eyes. "You're going to attack the Circle Tower?"

"That's why we need you, Anders. You've been there, you know your way around," Melinda says.

"And more importantly the mages there know you. You'll know how to speak to them, help them understand that we're not the enemy," Sheridan tells him. Anders shakes his head.

"That won't be so easy," he says. "The Chantry's got them all thinking you're crazed, axe wielding mage-killers. But I'll do my best."

"That's all we ask," Arran says gruffly before turning back to Sebastian and speaking rapidfire in the language of Starkhaven.

"Do you know of the best way in?" Melinda asks. Anders leans over the map considering.

"There's only one way in," he says pointing to the front entrance. "But you'll only be fighting be Templars. Everyone knows what you really want is the mages. If you can turn the battle quickly enough, most of the Templars will abandon their charges to save themselves." Arran mutters something darkly, spitting on the floor.

"Will the mages try to fight us?" Sebastian asks. Anders shakes his head.

"Maybe one or two, but most will simply try to run or hide. And many of them will be young, children," he tells them. 

Sheridan and Sebastian speak quickly and then Sebastian nods, giving Anders a small smile before turning back to staring holes in the map.

Sheridan turns to Anders taking his hand.

"Come with me," she says and leads him out of the tent. "This will be dangerous. You will safer with someone to guard you. I can assign an unbonded to you for the raid or if you will permit me, I can consult the spirits and find you someone more suited." Anders gives her a hesitant look.

"You want me to pair off with them?" he asks, biting his lip.

"Only if it what _you_ want. You can't force this sort of thing, Anders. It has to be right." Anders swallows hard, considering. It would mean trusting someone else to have his back, to keep him safe. But hadn't he already been doing that? He _does_ trust these people. The warriors aren't the Templars.

"Alright," Anders says. "What do you need me to do?" Sheridan smiles at him, squeezing his hand. 

"Come with me," she says and leads him off towards her tent.

Sheridan's tent is... Anders can't decide if it is the most fascinating thing he's ever seen, or the most objectively horrifying. There are plants of all kinds drying on every wall and bones and crystals on every flat surface. For the first time he wonders what kind of magic she practices.

"So what now?" he asks taking a seat. He turns to Sheridan and freezes when he sees orange glowing from her skin and shining from her eyes.

"Do not be afraid, child. I am Devotion. I mean you no harm," the spirit says softly. Anders blinks rapidly but nods.

"I...um, hello," he says. Devotion smiles at him, sitting across from him.

"You are skittish," she tells him. "You will need someone gentle. Understanding."

"You sound like a matchmaker," Anders jokes. Devotion shakes her head.

"I am not Love," she says. "Though it is not uncommon for me to lead people to it."

"Like Fergus and Cinaed?" Anders asks and she nods.

"Just so." She tilted her head staring at him in an intense kind of way that made him slightly uncomfortable. He shifted on his seat. "You don't need me as badly as some of the others."

"What do you mean?"

"My duty is not to assign you to someone Anders," she tells him. "It is to help you realize what _you_ have already decided. You know who you want to guard you already. Who you wish to gift with your devotion, and most of you is already aware of that decision."

Anders stares at her, confused. He has not idea what she's talking about. It's true he's been spending a lot of time thinking about the mage warrior pairs but he hasn't given any serious thought to forming one himself. He shifts in his seat pulling the plaid he was still wearing closer around his shoulders. He'd been reluctant to wear it at first, worried about what the rest of the clan would think, but it had gotten even colder and he needed the warmth. He'd gotten looks but they hadn't been disapproving like he'd been worried they would be, more... indulgent. And a few people had even seemed pleased. Sebastian especially has been giving him warm smiles whenever he wears it and Anders is coming around to the fact that there isn't much he wouldn't do to see that smile.

"Oh," Anders whispers feeling like an idiot. devotion just gives him an amused smile, nodding. "But- can I? He's the leader of the clan. He's a _Prince_."

"If he is the one you want and he agrees, there is nothing that says you cannot be a pair. And it past time he had someone to watch his back," Sheridan tells him and Anders is left yet again wondering when she had changed.

"I... I should go talk to him I guess," Anders murmurs. Sheridan grinned, pouring herself a glass of something from a pitcher and settling into her chair.

"Please do," she tells him. Anders has never been more aware of being dismissed in his life.


End file.
